


second wind

by shxme



Series: a shared weakness [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Language Barrier, M/M, Sort Of, Topping from the Bottom, Trans Male Character, Unprotected Sex, and also 100 percent more editing, back at it again with all smut, now with 100 percent more air, trans talon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25434319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shxme/pseuds/shxme
Summary: What are the odds or running into each other again? Certainly low, but when Talon sees him he knows he has to have him.I recommend reading the first part of this series before this one, but this IS all smut so.
Relationships: Talon Du Couteau/Yasuo
Series: a shared weakness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842241
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	second wind

**Author's Note:**

> hey we're back. i'm basically spamming the talon tag SORRY
> 
> i like this one way better than the first, mainly cause i actually attempted to edit it lol. 
> 
> here's hoping it's hot,,

A hunt. Not for the one he finds, originally, but the search for his true target has been tedious at best and boring at worst. This hunt, however, is simple. Talon knows it from the moment he recognizes the dark ponytail bobbing along the edge of the crowd. Three months past and halfway across Ionia this _stranger_ turns up, unannounced and uninvited but still a welcome diversion. _Something to bite on._

He must not know that Talon’s here. Indeed, he skirts along the edge of the crowd like an outcast. Head down, a hand on his sword. Zhyun is in the midst of celebrating a midsummer festival but even among all the colorful lanterns and petty thrills Talon remains focused. Not only on his main mission but on an objective that sinks beneath his skin. 

He moves, tracking the man from afar as he travels through the city. _What’s he doing here?_ Ionian rooftops are easy to climb compared to those in Noxus so he doesn’t hesitate as he traverses the buildings. Climbing is effortless and there’s something exciting about seeing all the unaware people below. Talon’s not afraid of heights, in fact, quite the opposite. If he could reach the top of the world he would be untouchable. 

The man turns down a side street, venturing off the main road towards a softly lit inn. Talon watches him enter, circles around the building carefully to stake out his prey. A _hunt._ There’s a knife in his hand, pulled out unconsciously, almost comforting. He taps the edge thoughtfully against his lip. Is he staying there? Why? Talon doesn’t even know his name but he remembers the deliciously warm pressure of the man’s head between his thighs. _Oh._ Talon squeezes his legs together. He’d really been talented at that sort of thing. 

He circles the inn once more, this time taking time to look through all the wide windows dotting the side of the building. Most of them are open to welcome in the soft summer air and he spies travellers and their children and their sweethearts. Talon’s nose wrinkles. _Which one would he be in?_ He sits on the edge of the neighboring rooftop, waiting for some telltale sign. This is often the most boring part of a hunt. Talon’s trained himself to be motionless for hours but it’s very unexciting, even if necessary.

After about ten minutes he rotates to another side of the building. It’d be much easier to go inside but Talon doesn’t feel like actually being around people, or talking. This is what he knows. This is what he’s good at.

A breeze brushes against his face and Talon remembers the man’s tired laughter. Can wind be familiar? He tilts his head, scanning the windows again. On the second floor of the inn a room is dark and open, curtains swaying. Maybe—Talon leans forward, pulling back his hood and closing his eyes. A moment later his hair is tossed in a light gust. Ridiculous, _right? It can’t work like that._

He returns to the ground, the road feeling far too flat beneath his soles. The wall of the inn is covered in green ivy and Talon’s eyes quickly pick out a path. _This way._ He glances around, making sure no one is nearby. Thankfully most of the city seems to be at the festival.

Talon scales up the wall silently, finding easy footholds in the uneven stone. When he reaches the open window strikingly fresh air tickles his nose. It _must_ be this one, though he can’t quite understand why he’s so sure. Gracefully he slips inside, like a spirit. Ionians believe in those, if he remembers correctly. 

The room is dark and simple. A large bed is in the center of the room and behind it is the shadow of a round table. Talon squints at the gloom.

He manages to dart away from the sword before it touches him, stepping back towards the window, knife brandished between his fingers. The blade’s long and Talon wants to hold it, swing it once to measure how sharp it feels. He pulls his hood down again and the weapon lowers.

“You.” The Ionian sounds surprised as he steps out of the darkness. He looks exactly the same as Talon remembers except maybe a little less tired. 

He says something in Ionian, a long flowy sentence and Talon doesn’t comprehend it so he shakes his head blankly. The vocabulary he knows is limited to battlefield commands.

The stranger sheaths his sword. “Why—are you—” he tries in Noxian, butchering the pronunciation. He must not know the word for _here_ because he goes silent and just gestures around. 

Why is he here? Talon flips his knife out of sight and his hand now travels to the clasp of his cloak. “For you.” 

The man lights an oil lamp and sets it on the round table next to a tipped bottle. Alcohol is a lonely man’s company. By the time he’s turned around Talon is on him, touching his bare chest. His skin is tanned and the dim light gives his dark eyes a warm glow. The Ionian wastes no time at all in pushing his pants down and reaching between his legs to work one finger inside. Talon’s already so wet—the anticipation of a hunt—and slick shines on his thighs. He leans up against the man and sinks his teeth into his collarbone. _This_ he remembers well. They stumble clumsily to the bed. The stranger pulls out his finger and Talon licks the mark he’s left on his skin, tasting iron.

“Yasuo,” the man speaks up as he’s pulling off his clothes and Talon looks at him, not understanding. 

“I am Yasuo,” the man says slowly in mangled Noxian.

 _Oh._ Talon nods. “Yasuo.” His boots are tightly laced and they fly across the room once he manages to kick them off. 

“And—you?” Yasuo asks haltingly, sitting in the middle of the bed.

Talon climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. He shoves him down and follows with his mouth, attacking Yasuo’s neck. No answer. The man gasps, voice turned gravelly as Talon leans up to bite his earlobe. His grip finds Talon’s hips and then one of his hands travels between his legs, sliding against him, two fingers poking inside this time.

He hums, already pleased with the results of his hunt as he grinds down against Yasuo’s hand, pleasure tracing it’s way up his body. It’s _not enough._ Talon focuses his attention on Yasuo’s inviting cock, shifting back on his legs to hold it against himself. Need—perhaps envy—is alive in his blood. 

Yasuo groans as he strokes him and tries to sit up but Talon forces him back down. _This is mine,_ he thinks. He’d followed him across the city and stalked him to his bed so this prey is his own.

He ruts against Yasuo’s cock, slicking it up with himself till it’s glistening in the low light and he’s too eager to wait so he raises himself up to press against the tip. _Oh_ he’s already breathing hard, excitement bringing a sharp smile to his lips. He glances at Yasuo and a strange breeze flips his bangs into his eyes. How does he do that? Talon wants to ask but he doesn’t have the words.

Bracing himself against Yasuo’s chest, he starts to sink down. He’s _wide._ Pain prickles between his legs as he’s forced open. Didn’t prepare as much as last time, but the discomfort is minimal compared to the satisfaction of being filled. Talon closes his eyes and bites his lip. If he could memorize this feeling he would, falling down on this man’s endless cock. It feels— _perfect._ Talon doesn’t use that word lightly. As if Yasuo is meant to fit inside of him. 

When his thighs finally settle against the swordsman’s skin he cracks his eyes open to see Yasuo staring up at him. His eyes are dark— _dark_ like the shadows that Talon hides in, but it feels as if they see straight through him. He ducks his head, turning his attention instead to the lamplight flickering across the walls and the sensation of fullness. 

Yasuo’s fingers pinch his cock and Talon’s hips jerk automatically. He says something in Ionian again, husky and rough, and cracks a half-smile. Talon focuses on that smile as he shakily raises himself up again. It almost feels wrong pulling away, but then he drops back down and his fingernails dig into Yasuo’s chest and he can’t help the moan that escapes him. 

Talon is already breathless and burning and with every rise and fall of his body he is more and more alive. It’s the same feeling as when he’s climbing. When he’s above the world. Yasuo’s touch brings him back down, rocking into him. Regretfully reminding him that he is _not_ untouchable, not yet. Talon leans over him, steadied under Yasuo’s hands. His mouth brushes over the corner of the man’s lips as he searches for a better angle. Something _sharper._ Yasuo helps him find it and he mewls as his perfect cock reaches so deep inside of Talon that he sees stars.

 _“Fuck—”_ He swears, voice breaking apart into choked silence. Wind whips through the room, and the oil lamp flickers, dangerously close to going out. “How—” That’s the only word Talon manages to say. Talking is _too hard_ sometimes. _How’d you do that? How’d you do this to me?_ He can’t remember ever being torn apart by someone like this before.

Yasuo’s mouth bumps against his own, hands bruisingly tight around his waist. Talon likes bruising. He pants, wet, so _wet,_ and reaches under himself to work his cock. One of Yasuo’s hands joins him there and with a sudden, embarrassing whimper Talon comes, legs quaking, body tense and tight. 

Under him, Yasuo groans, teeth gritted as he rolls his thrusts against him. He smooths his hand up Talon’s hip and tips him over onto his back, pulling out of him to reposition. Talon’s whining at the feeling of being empty, a faint buzzing in his ears. This is _his_ hunt. He shouldn’t be below him, he should be on _top,_ except Yasuo presses his cock inside again and every complaint is ushered out the window. Talon is quiet, every sound stolen from his throat as the Ionian—magical, handsome Ionian—kneels between his thighs and fucks him apart. 

In just one minute more Yasuo tips his head back and comes. Talon is huffing, broken open and exposed. He feels overly sensitive and when Yasuo cups his cheek it's a rush of cold air cutting across his blazing skin. 

“You are—” Yasuo pauses. He says the next word in Ionian and Talon wishes he knew. Wishes he could understand what Yasuo makes him. 

They lay quietly, both exhausted, and Talon traces the marks he’s made with his fingers. This bed is bigger than the last one, thankfully, but still they are on top of each other. Yasuo takes his hand and presses it over his heart.

“I am Yasuo,” he says again in Noxian. “And you?”

Talon rests his chin on the man’s chest, looking up at him. There are a hundred ways he could kill him, right here right now. Could be like this never happened. But he feels so soft and sore, raw and languid. 

“Talon,” he reveals.

“Talon,” Yasuo echoes back, gaze gentle.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Talon warns, reaching up to press his thumb against one of the bruises on his neck. “You should have killed me when you saw me. Cut me open with your sword.”

The man doesn’t understand him. Only continues to regard him curiously, affectionately. Talon is secretly glad he doesn’t speak good Noxian because that way he can still pretend they're strangers. In some ways they still are, but not like before. 

They should be enemies and it’s both of their faults for not killing the other. Talon’s flaws are glaringly bitter. At least—Yasuo makes him feel flawless. 

Talon will savor that feeling—selfish—until he can find it on his own. 

**Author's Note:**

> WELL. 
> 
> my tumblr is @no-shxme where i take prompts n stuff and my twitter is @shxmes where i talk more loosely about how much i fucking love talon and what i'm writing next. kudos, comments, etc are very very appreciated! tysm for all the support.<3
> 
> i'll definitely be writing more for talon in the future hopefully you guys are okay with me clogging the tag lol.


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